Bryony Gordon has a few words of advice for anyone, like Princess Eugenie, who
is starting university this week.

Funny time of year this. It should, by rights, be a bit boring, a bit in-betweeny, what with the weather being neither hot nor cold, and the leaves on the trees going all brown, and there being no bank holidays to look forward to for months and months. And yet… well, and yet.

So much goes on in September, doesn’t it? I suppose it is sort of appropriate that the ninth month of the year should be so full of life. It’s time to go back to school (you know who the parents in the office are, because they are usually the ones running around like feral children themselves, shouting with glee). September has all those fashion weeks, and party political conferences, too. Both of which have more in common than they might realise, in that they are populated mostly by people completely out of touch with reality, with nobody on the outside world really giving a (designer) frock or a Nick Clegg what goes on at them.

And then there is Freshers’ week, the annual carnival of debauchery where new students celebrate leaving the clutches of their parents for the first time by getting hopelessly drunk and kissing each other. This, I think, is far more interesting than fashion week, or the Lib Dem conference, though admittedly, watching paint dry would be more interesting than the latter event.

Anyway, one of these freshers is Princess Eugenie, who this week started her degree at Newcastle university. She has been photographed skipping around campus. One publication made a great song and dance of the fact that she was wearing Topshop clothes and trainers, as if we should have expected her to turn up Tyneside in a full crinoline gown and a tiara, Geordies curtseying as she makes her way to lectures.

Glancing at these pictures my first thought was “she looks so happy”; my second “give it three days and she’ll be rocking back and forth in her halls of residence with a thousand yard stare on her face”. It all brought back not-so-fond memories of being a fresher, almost ten years ago now, an experience so traumatic that I am sure it was a large part of my decision to drop out of university just three months later.

I didn’t learn much during my brief time in higher education – a fact I have nobody but myself to blame for – but what I did pick up was the following equation. That knowing nobody plus a lot of two for one deals on alcopops will equal absolute carnage.

The awfully nice people at Debrett’s have devised an etiquette guide so that students can get through the minefield that is freshers’ week without becoming social lepers. But trying to teach etiquette to students is like attempting to have a nice cup of tea and a sit down with the Taliban. “Keep your wits about you,” they advise. “Exercise a little caution.” Ha! Exercise? Caution? Are you having a laugh? I think a few more realistic tips would be:

- Be picky with your friendship. Just because someone lives in the room next door to you, or once visited a town near you, or, indeed, smiles at you, it doesn’t mean that you will necessarily get on. When you are talking to someone, have this thought at the back of your mind: “if I make friends with this person, is it likely that I will spend the next three years trying to un-make friends with them?”

- Ditto, sexual partners. Ok, you’ve got an uncomfortable bed away from the prying eyes of your parents, and you are perfectly entitled to do what you want in it. But ask yourself: him? <itals>Really<itals>?

- Stay away from any man in a rugby jumper, boating shoes and chinos, who is in his second year. He will make you drink a horrid concoction of alcohol from a funnel, or break your heart. Or both.

- Do you really want to join the university falconry team, or do you just feel a bit sorry for the people who run it? You want to belong, <itals>we all do<itals>, but some societies are best left to their mad selves.

- Remember that to live, you need to water and feed yourself. And not just with hooch and pieces of toast. If your skin starts turning yellow, you probably have jaundice and should seek help. Also, scurvy is not a good look and won’t endear you to members of the opposite sex. Or, indeed, the same sex, should that be your preference.

- When the 78th person asks you where you went to school and what you got in your A-Levels (I suppose that nowadays the blanket answer is: “108 As”), resist the temptation to pour your pint of exceedingly cheap and exceedingly appalling beer over their heads. They’re just trying to be nice.

- Oh yes. At some point, you should probably go to some lectures and do some reading. But don’t worry too much about that.